Murder in a sleepy Michigan town leads to an investigation that uncovers a conspiracy just beneath the cloak of civility.

A couple attacked. Two lives destroyed. Truths become exposed in the harshest way to avoid.

When "Buckets Of Rain" cascade, illusions of secrets in life's blind spots begin to fade.

A.H. Scott pulls the trigger on a thriller that's truly a killer.

Even days when the sun shines brightest, "Buckets Of Rain" fall.

The most dangerous place to be is at the helm of hubris.

Excerpt -

Neither he, nor she knew of any persons that could be considered as enemies, yet this shadow in their lives, operated under the auspices of someone both knew very well. DeeDee's delightful dawn with Tang, became a verification of information that could be desperately desired by a sole person.

Male in late thirties with toothpick motioning back and forth, between his tight lips; made for a slightly frenzied sight to anyone on that road. Black suede jacket, blue tank top and jeans, made for a costume of plainness for him.

Armed with folders full of photographs and written items, this blue car made it's way to a Hoxeyville home. Aromatic flowers and neatly manicured lawn, greeted the solitary visitor of silence. Standing in the stately doorway, this man held several, medium sized packages under his left arm. Nearly one hundred and fifty pounds and height of about six foot, his personage was that of a finely fit pugilist.

Three bells sounded, as a thumb was pressed onto doorbell. Surprised at who greeted this person, it was need for a light phrase, "Must be the maid's day off".

In a single motion of a right hand, the occupant of this home spoke volumes with no words. Leading guest past several rooms on the ground floor, they made their way into a walnut paneled library. Closing double doors behind them, a smile came over this homeowner's face, "Is that what I think it is, sir".

Placing items onto mahogany desk, he replied, "It's more than you could ever expect to have".

"Beautiful place here" ,looking at the lavish decor.

"Come on, sit down and relax" ,chuckling genially at this man in his home, a slightly older male pulled out a chair behind this desk.

Slim fingers slowly tapped that ornate desk, as that wiry body sat down. Hands grasped both arms of this redwood seat, "I should have made my way out to these parts earlier. This is truly a home" ,gazing around this room, his eyes glistened with a sliver of resentment.

"How long have you been in town?"

"Long enough to start on your project".

"How's your father?"

"The old man's like leather" ,gently chuckling, he added soem pepper into the mix, "Tough as hell, but righteous for the right ground".

"And his son, is an admirable sort of lad".

"Coming from you, sir, that's a remark of high regard".

Knowing that time was of the essence, the core of summoning this younger man to his home came forward, "I place my trust in you, Mr. Arrington".

"Ooh, why so formal?"

"Because, this is business" ,a solemn stare came over him, while motioning an index finger towards Arrington.

Speaking of that, sir. I can remember a glorious dialogue you had in my neck of the woods, a while back" ,smirking, he continued, "You spoke about business being more than just dollars and cents".

"Simply put, sir" ,repeating what he'd heard in a previous time, "Blood, sweat, and oh so many tears. It's what makes the machine keep on turning".

Motioning forward, he shook this younger male's right hand and spoke an apt word of praise, "Bulleye!!!"

Hoxeyville's mystery man, Gaylord Victor Arrington, could sit across the desk of a somewhat refined elder and give a smile of perceptiveness. Dark brown hair, slicked back in an almost wet fashion, gave this male of lanky physique a slithery complexion. This Valdosta, Georgia resident had an expertise that this homeowner desired to procure.

Loathing his given first name; propelled him in using the more apt calling card of Victor. The only people that uses Gaylord, remained both parents, which occured at those moments of family tension. Victor was what he wanted to achieve and with the assistance of present benefactor, thus, he would be that conquering namesake.

Born near the Florida border, in Iron City, to Webster Arrington from Rayle and his wife Harriet Cordelia Templar of Camilla, they lived in temperate comfort. Owning combination restaurant and dance hall, since winter of 1940, Bob's BBQ Barn maintained a bustling occupancy in Sylvester, due to it's close location to Turner Air Force Base.

Presently, a specific task was needed to be handled and Victor was more than eager to fulfill any duty. No price was too high and as for any ethical qualms, it took a paltry back seat in Arrington's mobile of arrogance. - End Of Excerpt

About Me

A.H. Scott is a writer.
"As an author, I enjoy letting my characters and plots that I've created get inside of the reader's heads. I make a promise to anyone that rolls the dice and catches a glimpse of my work that you will never be bored. Your eyes, mind and soul shall be thrilled. This is my bond to you, the reader. No simplicity ever from A.H. Scott. Always complexity is my main intent on anyone who reads my work." - A.H. Scott ==
“I want the reader to be affected in two ways - above the neck & below the belt”. - A.H. Scott ===
"I don't write for children. I write for adults". - A.H. Scott
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"I believe art should be as enigmatic as the artist who creates it." A. H. Scott
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"Silence is acceptance. Acceptance is conquest. Conquest is a rainbow obscured by a black cloud of contempt".
- A.H. Scott